


The Push

by ourthemeislove



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angry Katsuki Yuuri, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Crushes, Crying, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fear, First Love, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Hopeful Ending, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov's Wedding, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Motorcycles, Near Death Experiences, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Pre-Relationship, Protective Otabek Altin, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Protectiveness, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Yuri Plisetsky Swears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-11 05:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15965888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourthemeislove/pseuds/ourthemeislove
Summary: “Jesus. Jesus Christ.” Yuri drew in a breath of realisation. “You pushed me off.”Otabek kept on smiling. “Risky but… worth the chance.”Yuri stared. “No. No nono, you’re h-hurt and I’m not- I’m...” His voice died in his throat as he watched Otabek’s eyes close. “Don’t you fuckingdare-stay awake. Otabek!”Otabek’s eyes jolted open. They locked with Yuri’s.“You’re a wonder,” Otabek murmured.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Amount of chapters TBD.  
> Content warning: non-graphic descriptions of road accident and injury; vomit mention; hospitals; general warning for characters in distress.

“ _Stupid fucking kids,” Otabek had said._

 

_Yuri should have known, really. Otabek hardly ever swore. He should have known Otabek was scared._

 

“ _Yuri, I don’t like this. I really don’t- I’m going to pull over!” Otabek’s voice strained to be heard over the engine. “Just a second-”_

 

_The ‘stupid fucking kids’ had swerved, trying to overtake them. Otabek swore again. That corner was a blind spot, didn’t they know that-_

 

_And then Yuri saw the truck. He didn’t even have time to scream._

* * *

 

In St Petersburg, Viktor is Yuri’s emergency contact. Yuri only vaguely remembers discussing it- purely on the basis that if anything ever happened, it would save his Grandpa travelling from Moscow. Back then, he was imagining minor skating injuries or even just locking himself out of his own apartment.

 

Not this.

 

Viktor’s face is starkly white as he storms through the doors. If he had the energy, Yuri would tease him, saying that the old man looks like he’s about to throw up. He stays silent.

 

Viktor nearly falls over in his haste to reach him. “Yura,” he breathes. Then, choked: “Oh God, oh my _god._ ”

 

“You’re not even fucking religious.”

 

It’s an odd thing to say. In fact, Yuri isn’t even sure he _has_ said it. His lips feel numb. Everything feels like it’s moving in a swirling cloud around him, just out of reach. Viktor is gripping his shoulders tightly. Yuri can feel someone shaking and he’s not sure if it’s him or Viktor or both.

 

“I-it wasn’t his fault,” he pushes the words out of his numb mouth. “He’s… he’s so careful. He’s always so _careful._ ”

* * *

_What surprised Yuri was that they were both awake, after it all. He remembered in movies, usually people would look asleep after this, injuries displayed like gentle works of art. Then, they’d wake up later. Everything would be fine._

 

_He lifted his head, ears ringing. His body ached, but he could still move. His hands reached up and he threw his helmet off. His vision felt tunnelled, zeroing into the one point that mattered: Otabek._

 

_He could see Otabek’s helmet, crushed next to the bike. Otabek’s body was curled near the seat, almost as if he was expecting to soon drive off again. Yuri tried not to think about the truck or the terrible bloody tangle of Otabek’s legs. But, he couldn’t avoid the sight. He threw up, doubling over with the force of it._

 

“ _Don’t look, Yuri,” Otabek whispered. “Don’t look, it’s okay.”_

 

_It wasn’t okay._

 

“ _Why the fuck are you **smiling?** ” Yuri hissed. He spat out the remaining bile._

 

“ _You got off the bike in time,” Otabek said simply._

 

“ _Jesus. Jesus Christ.” Yuri drew in a breath of realisation. “You pushed me off.”_

 

_Otabek kept on smiling. “Risky but… worth the chance.”_

 

_Yuri stared. “No. No no **no** , you’re h-hurt and I’m not- I’m...” His voice died in his throat as he watched Otabek’s eyes close. “Don’t you fucking **dare-** stay awake. Otabek!”_

 

_Otabek’s eyes jolted open. They locked with Yuri’s._

 

“ _You’re a wonder,” Otabek murmured._

* * *

 

Today is the day Yuri learns that Yuuri Katsuki is a terrifying force of nature in his anger. Both him and Viktor jump when he slams a hand down on the front desk. In halting yet furious Russian, he demands that they be kept up to date of Otabek’s condition, and describes their lack of transparency as “absolutely appalling.”

 

Yuri almost laughs at that- knowing it’s a phrase that must’ve been picked up by overhearing Yakov describing failed jumps.

 

He doesn’t catch most of what Yuuri says, his understanding fading in and out as his ears decide to focus on listening to the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. He hears repeated mentions of “my husband” and “our Yura”, and he can’t even find the effort to be embarrassed.

 

Viktor is being typically ridiculous, just gripping Yuri’s hand tightly. It’s like he’s frightened he’ll run off or something. But then, Yuri holds on just as tight.

 

As Yuuri continues his fight with the hospital staff, a horrible realisation occurs.

 

“It’s his birthday next week.”

 

Viktor inhales sharply. “Oh, Yura.”

 

“I should have- I got- I got a present-” Yuri gulps in air like he’s drowning. “B-but I- I should have paid extra for- for shipping, it might not arrive in time-”

 

“Yura, stop.”

 

“I- I didn’t have enough _time_ ,” Yuri says, begging Viktor to understand. “I sh-should have-”

 

“Shh, shh, shh, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

* * *

 

_Yuri heard sirens._

 

“ _You hear that? Otabek!”_

 

“ _Hmm?”_

 

“ _They’ll help you, people are coming.”_

 

“ _Good,” Otabek said, smile far too fixed. “S’good, Yuri.”_

 

“ _Call me Yura,” Yuri pleaded, but he meant **I love you.**_

 

_Otabek’s smile turned genuine, lopsided and beautiful, even with the blood. “Alright. Yura, Yura, Yura.”_

 

“ _Keep saying it,” Yuri said. He reached for Otabek’s hand. The loose grip frightened him beyond words. “And keep your fucking eyes open.”_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you dying?” he said, his voice fragile, tinged with hysteria. “If you’re dying, I might actually kill you.”
> 
> Miraculously, Otabek’s eyes temporarily lost their scary glaze. He laughed loudly. “Damn,” he wheezed. “I’m screwed, then.”

 

_In the end, Otabek obeyed and kept his eyes open. But now, that only meant Yuri could see when they drifted into periods of looking fixed and glassy. He thought seeing the light leave someone’s eyes was a cliché. But no. He could see it, really see when Otabek’s started to turn into something unreal, like a doll’s. Decidedly un-Otabek._

 

_Dimly, he realised that this might be what dying looked like. Then, he pushed that thought down because surely, if your best friend was dying right in front of you, you should be comforting them, definitely not mentioning the fact that they’re dying._

 

_It seemed that Yuri’s brain to mouth filter hadn’t got this memo._

 

“ _Are you dying?” he said, his voice fragile, tinged with hysteria. “If you’re dying, I might actually kill you.”_

 

_Miraculously, Otabek’s eyes temporarily lost their scary glaze. He laughed loudly. “Damn,” he wheezed. “I’m screwed, then.”_

 

“ _Shut the fuck up,” Yuri said. He tried to smile, because the sirens were getting closer, and the sound of Otabek’s laughter had broken through the fog of everything, and maybe, it was all going to be fine-_

 

“ _Yura,” Otabek said. His hand twitched in Yuri’s, like he was trying so desperately to hold onto it properly. “If it’s- I- if I-”_

 

“ _Shut the fuck up,” Yuri repeated. “Don’t you even-”_

 

“ _I… just in case.” Otabek’s eyes glazed over again. There was blood seeping out of his nose and mouth, something Yuri was doing his best to ignore. “Yura, I… **oh**.” _

 

_Right then and there, Yuri decided that was the worst sound he would ever hear. It was half gasp, half muffled scream, and the fact that it was coming from Otabek of all people, Otabek who bore every fall with a stoic silence, Otabek who never complained, strong, strong Otabek-_

 

“ _S-sorry,” Otabek whispered. There were tears on his face, mingling with the blood. “Just hurts s-so...”_

 

_His grip on Yuri’s hand was slackening even more. Yuri shook it urgently. “Stay awake. You- you were going to say something, right? Otabek!” Otabek’s eyes unfocused alarmingly. “Otabek, please.”_

 

“ _M’sorry,” Otabek said. “S’ry… Yura I...”_

 

_He sighed, long and deep, like it was the greatest effort. His eyes remained fixed on Yuri as they glazed over completely._

 

“ _O-Otabek.” Yuri shook his hand. “No no no, come on.” He fought back the burning sensation in his throat, gritting his teeth. “Wake up, you bastard, wake up!”_

 

_He screamed his voice raw as the paramedics finally worked around them, manoeuvring Otabek’s broken form onto a stretcher. His hand slipped out of Yuri’s grasp and lay limp, like a ragdoll’s._

 

“ _Y-you bastard,” Yuri repeated, only because surely Otabek wouldn’t let those terrible last words be the last he ever said to him. “Wake up… p-please...”_

* * *

 

 

By the third hour of waiting, Yuri is pulling at his hair. “Wake up,” he spits, with every fierce tug. “Wake up, you stupid-”

 

Somewhere above him, he can hear Viktor and Yuuri having a rapid, hushed conversation. The hospital staff can find no next of kin, apart from contact information for Otabek’s coaches. Fat chance that’ll help them, now.

 

 _There won’t be any- no-one will come_ , Yuri realises. His thoughts feel distant, just out of reach. He remembers Otabek always changing the subject when it came to talk of family, masterfully dodging any questions and now-

 

_I should have asked. I should have asked. I’ll never know._

* * *

 

 

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Yuri whispers, at hour five.

 

“Don’t!” Viktor gasps. “Don’t- how can you say things like-”

 

“Well, you’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?!” Yuri spits out. He hates Viktor for it suddenly. Viktor, who has his husband, safe by his side. “You don’t have to fucking worry about _anything!_ ”

 

Viktor’s eyes are wide. “Wh-what-?”

“Y-you could die tomorrow,” Yuri says, voice growing louder and louder. He jumps out of his seat when Yuuri tries to move towards him. “A-and it wouldn’t _matter_ because you’ve- you’ve already fucking said everything there is to-”

“Yura. Stop it, _stop it._ _Don’t,_ ” Viktor pleads. His voice is high-pitched and thick with tears. Yuri thinks he should hate him for this, too, but he supposes someone should be crying, when Otabek is… Yuri doesn’t think he has the energy for tears right now.

* * *

 

Yuri breathes in and out above the sink. Yuuri catches his eyes in the mirror and he quickly looks away. He is burning with shame. He’d left them. He’d said terrible, _terrible_ things. He had made Viktor cry.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says to Yuuri’s wavering reflection. “I- I didn’t mean it.”

 

It’s a pathetic apology, but Yuuri still smiles, kind as ever. “He just loves you,” he says, gently. “And he worries so… we both do.”

* * *

 

 

Hour… is it still hour five? Yuri tries to ignore how he’s swaying on his feet a bit, now. Time is hazy, he can hardly remember leaving the hospital. He remembers Yuuri promising to keep him updated- Otabek, still in surgery? Perhaps. Still alive, still breathing, still…

 

He stumbles on the steps to his apartment. Yes, he remembers a little now. A quick trip to his apartment. Change of clothes. A shower. Viktor is going to help him pack. And Otabek, he’d need to show Otabek where to park his bike-

 

No, Otabek… the crash… surgery…

 

Viktor shepherds him inside, asking him if his pyjamas are still in the third drawer. Yuri opens his mouth to answer, but the words are stolen from him at what catches his eye. A parcel. It’s opened at the side, the packaging torn, the product inside at least partly damaged. Shit delivery service. He should have paid more, but at least it’s arrived in time…

 

A jacket. He’d ordered it almost a month ago, laughing at the idea: custom-made, _DJ O. Altin_ stamped in silver sequins on the back. He had hoped Otabek would see the funny side of it. He always took pride in how he could make Otabek’s stoic facade crack so easily. He’d make sure to record it, for evidence, and they both would laugh and laugh...

 

Yuri watches as Viktor picks up the packaging and fusses with the jacket, striding through to the living room. He feels abruptly winded, as if someone has just swooped in and stolen all the air from his lungs.

 

“It’s just a ripped seam,” Viktor says, his voice placating. “Easy to fix- I can’t tell you, the amount of times I ripped a costume before a skate, Yakov would have killed me if I didn’t become at least _mildly_ competent with a needle and-”

 

“Viktor,” Yuri whispers. He curls up on the couch, back to Viktor. He doesn’t want to see the eagerness in his face, how his shaky smile seems to say, _look, Yura! I can fix_ _ **this**_ _._

 

Yuri feels his breath catch treacherously. He quickly slaps a hand over his own mouth, but he speaks again before he can stop himself. “V-Viktor, I-” The couch is shaking, and then he realises it’s him, the sobs catching in his chest. “I think I...”

 

There are hands on his shoulders, gently encouraging him to turn around. He takes a shuddering breath, and turns into Viktor’s arms. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, knowing that this is the first he’s ever cried in front of Viktor, apart from on the ice. But, he can’t stop now, not when Viktor’s holding him, one hand gently rubbing his back.

 

“I love him,” Yuri says.

 

Viktor shushes him. “Of course you do,” he says softly. “Of course-”

 

“No.” Carefully, Yuri pushes Viktor’s arms away. He meets his eyes. “No, I… I think I was in-- a- _am_...”

 

He can’t bear to even say it. But the look on Viktor’s face tells him he doesn’t need to finish the sentence. “Oh, _sweetheart_ ,” he says, hushed. It’s unnatural, hearing that endearment from Viktor of all people. Yuri can’t even remember the last time he’s been called that. It sounds caring and warm and drives home just how real this is. Yuuri is right, Viktor is so desperately worried. He cries harder.

 

“I know,” Viktor is murmuring. “Shh, I know, I know...”

 

“I-I think I wanted him to-to be my first kiss.” He admits it in a half whisper, muffled against Viktor’s jumper.

 

“Oh no,” Viktor gasps and Yuri realises how much he knows him then. He understands this doesn’t mean “oh no, what a dreadful choice” but rather: “no, this isn’t fair.” “Oh, god Yura, I’m so sorry.”

 

He really does sound sorry, his voice breaking like he might be crying, too.

 

Soon, they break apart, long enough for Viktor to efficiently pack Yuri’s things. He carefully folds the jacket onto a chair, and glances at Yuri.

 

“I’m sorry that I can’t fix this right now,” he says, so seriously that Yuri knows he’s not just talking about the jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....aaaa, more heartbreak sorry! Next chapter is looking to be more of a bigger flashback to happier moments so you’ll soon have fluff to combat (more) angst! ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He finds Otabek leaning against one of the bar stools. Perhaps if you didn’t know him, you’d say he looks moody standing there alone, but Yuri has become an expert in finding his slight smile, just barely tugging at the corner of his mouth. Hiding, but _there._

Yuri has been to exactly zero weddings before the Katsuki-Nikiforov Ceremony of the Year, so he doesn’t really know what to expect. In the end, his cheeks ache from smiling so much (in a good way, but not that he’d let on) and _no_ , he definitely didn’t tear up during the vows, _Phichit, delete that video I swear to god…!_

 

But it’s the evening reception where things get really interesting.

 

* * *

 

“Yura!” Victor croons, elongating the ‘a’ for much longer than necessary. Yuri guesses that he’s not _that_ drunk yet- and, anyway, drunk Victor is just Viktor’s usual energy x1000. He’s looking at Yuri with fond, glittering eyes. “You look so smart!”

 

“Oh, _ew,_ ” Yuri says. “Go be gross with your husband.”

 

“My _husband_ ,” Viktor gasps, comically loud. “Yes!” He turns and, with all the delivery of a reporter with breaking news, says, “I’m _married_.”

 

“Really? Thanks for saying, I wondered why we were here.”

 

Viktor laughs, and plants an obnoxiously loud _mwah_ of a kiss on Yuri’s cheek. Yuri is just about to amp up his pantomime screeching act, but bites his tongue at Viktor’s next words:

 

“Yura,” he breathes, with every bit of warmth and sincerity possible, “Yura, I’m so _happy._ ”

 

And, well. Yuri knows those are precious words. He reasons he doesn’t have to be a _total_ dick, especially not on the old man’s wedding day- well, night, now. So, he doesn’t pull away, and instead gives Viktor a half-hug, one arm going up around his shoulders.

 

“Good,” he says, and really means it.

 

“Ahhh, you’re going to make me cry!” Viktor says. (He has already cried at least 12 times today, from what Yuri’s seen).

 

“So sappy in your old age.”

* * *

 

He finds Otabek leaning against one of the bar stools. Perhaps if you didn’t know him, you’d say he looks moody standing there alone, but Yuri has become an expert in finding his slight smile, just barely tugging at the corner of his mouth. Hiding, but  _there_.

 

“Hello,” Otabek says. He nods at the seat he’s leaning against, and Yuri jumps on, pretending not to enjoy how he’s temporarily the tallest out of the two of them.

 

“Having fun?” Yuri asks.

 

He means it as a tease, but Otabek’s eyes sparkle in sincerity. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s nice watching everyone.” He gestures towards the dancefloor, milling with people, Yuuri and Viktor doing half-hearted, tipsy twirls in the centre. “It’s like a… what’s the word? Dysfunctional family. In a nice way.”

 

Yuri snorts. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Then, without missing a beat: “So who’s who?”

 

“Well…” Otabek leans further against the seat, gently jostling Yuri’s shoulder in the process. “Nikiforov and Katsuki are obviously the gay uncles. They’re trying their best to upgrade to gay parents, though.”

 

Yuri laughs. “Nikiforov and Katsuki?” he parrots. “What, are we in private school?”

 

Otabek actually blushes. “Well, I- I’ve never really spoken to them before so, I um-” (Yuri doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of Otabek saying ‘um’, it does _not_ suit the gravity of his voice) “I wasn’t sure if it was… um, appropriate, I suppose.”

 

Yuri raises his eyebrows. “Jesus, relax. I’ve had Viktor responding to ‘dickhead’ for ages now.”

 

“But, that’s _you_ -”

 

Suddenly, the piercing sound of mic feedback cuts their conversation short. Otabek winces, and they both turn to see Christophe and his boyfriend (fiancé? Yuri’s not sure, he’s just known him as always being _there_ ) struggling with an outdated looking sound system.

 

“Ah,” Otabek says. “They’re not… I don’t think they know exactly how that works.”

 

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Yuri says.

 

The speakers- there’s really no other word for it- _groan_ in protest, before a very crackly version of some [Venga Boys song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Zbi0XmGtMw) does its best to be heard.  Thankfully, everyone either looks too drunk or just too happy to really care, but Yuri can see Otabek’s jaw clench.

 

He hides a smile behind his hand. “Oh shit, are they not appreciating the _art_ of music?” He does his best to lower his voice to Otabek’s register, using what he’s nicknamed The Mr Darcy Voice.

 

Otabek just rolls his eyes. “Yuri, it’s not going to bother me.”

* * *

 

 

“It’s bothering me,” Otabek announces. It’s a much louder statement than normal, and Yuri notes his singular empty flute of champagne with a smirk. _Lightweight_. It’s endearing, really.

 

“So, go over there,” he says.

 

Otabek looks scandalised. “I can’t do that! What am I supposed to say, ‘hi, your music is shit?!’”

 

Yuri shrugs. “That’s what I’d do. Besides, you’ll be more qualified than anyone here.”

 

“I doubt they’ll be wanting my type of music,” Otabek says. He’s grinning quite a lot, now. It’s not even a particularly tipsy grin, Yuri thinks. He’s just not used to seeing Otabek quite so unguarded. It’s… nice.

 

“As long as you don’t play _Welcome to the Madness_ , I think you’re good.”

 

Otabek’s smile widens even more. He squeezes Yuri’s shoulder and whispers in his ear, like they're sharing a secret. “Of course not. That’s _our_ thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this? A pain-free chapter?!! ;)
> 
> There'll probably be at least one other chapter focusing on this wedding flashback. If you have any particular requests for what music you'd like Otabek to play, feel free to suggest! He's going to play at least two songs for Plot Reasons but I love getting introduced to new stuff! <3

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr url: ourthemeislove


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